


bad idea (let's keep kissing)

by pinkgrapefruit



Series: what baking can do [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, and nina making decisions based off of them, contains terrible ideas, the author is a musical theatre nerd, waitress songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 05:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20286166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgrapefruit/pseuds/pinkgrapefruit
Summary: She supposes that it could symbolise the way her heart sticks and tugs a little every time she looks at Monet but she’s always been a poetic theatre kid and real-life doesn’t work like a storybook.(or, monet and nina are broadway actresses and messes)[aq musical theatre challenge]





	bad idea (let's keep kissing)

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to ninex and waitress - otherwise known as my love letter to meggie (she's like my mum and i love her). thank you to beanie and mac for betaing and advising! please let me know what you think and enjoy!

_ It's a bad idea, me and you _

_ I know, I totally agree _

_ It's a bad idea, me and you _

_ I've never known anything so true _

_ It's a terrible idea, me and you _

They’ve always been electric. Neon sign, Blackpool illuminations, Times Square electric. At one point the director asked if Nina could play the Doctor instead - if they could gender-bend the entire production just to have the chemistry play out on stage every night and she would have agreed, given up the possibility of ever playing Jenna just to kiss Monet for money eight times a week. Like she said back then, she wouldn’t have complained. 

No one ever asked what Monet thought. Yes, her eyes were pretty obvious, the blown pupils and the way her tongue darted out every time Nina stepped on stage but it was just a bit of chemistry (ironically, the exact justification used by a teenage Monet to explain why her science grade had dropped when she got the lead in a school play - it never worked). 

So they skirt each other, wait till there is the acceptable three feet of space to avoid an electric shock. Insulate. Protect. Avoid.

Until they don’t.

Somewhere between the avoidance and ignoring, Monet hasn’t looked at Nina in months and then suddenly, she looks even more beautiful.

_ You have a wife _

_ You have a husband _

_ You're my doctor _

_ You've got a baby coming _

_ It's a bad idea, me and you _

_ Let's just keep kissing 'til we come to _

“This is a terrible idea,” exhales Monet as she leans back into her chair, Nina straddling her legs and leaving sweet cherry kisses on her neck. “We work together - God, this was supposed to be a show.” 

The other woman sits up a little on her legs, moves her lips from her neck to place a long, tender kiss on Monet's lips. She smiles shyly as she pulls away, reaches a hand from where it was placed on her hip to wipe the stray lipstick away. 

“God we’re a cliche,” Nina giggles softly, biting her lip as she says it before sliding off Monet’s (very crumpled apron) and onto the chair opposite. She links their fingers with a smile. “I think this was possibly a rather bad idea,” but as she says it, she smiles like it’s the best idea she’s ever had.

“If people find out- “

“We deal with it.”

“But - “

“Monet, I’m supposed to be the nervous mess - Calm down, honey.” She squeezes their intertwined fingers with a finality that tells the other woman the conversation is most certainly over for now. 

A knock on the dressing room door causes them to jump apart, hands splitting as they both move to reapply their lipstick (to look like they were doing anything but making out). “Come in,” one of them calls and Brooke opens the door looking unimpressed. 

“You know it’s a bad day when you can’t find either of the Jennas,” She sighs, obviously turning off her headset and tapping her clipboard. “I won’t say a word of this to anyone,” she then hisses, almost conspiratorially, “But lord help me if we don’t have a Jenna for act two - Nina you’re a swing for a reason.” 

Monet chuckles as she finishes checking herself but sees Brooke’s pointed glare in the mirror and changes her mind. She squeezes Nina’s hip before following the Canadian muttering something about ‘ _ the power of showbiz _ ’ and how ‘ _ these aprons don’t get ironed.’ _

Nina sinks back down into the chair, hovers a finger over the ghost of the other girl's lips and wonders how the hell she got on Broadway in the first place. 

_ Heart, stop racing _

_ Let's face it, making mistakes like this will make worse what was already pretty bad _

_ Mind, stop running _

_ It's time we just let this thing go _

_ It was a pretty good bad idea, wasn't it though? _

They sneak out of stage door after the show, wait until the fans have all left and hope none of the production team spots them. It’s New York in the winter and so both are bundled up warm in layers upon layers. Monet’s clothes are almost sleek - she looks put together and expensive as she hurries Nina down the subway stairs. Nina, on the other hand, looks like a walking craft fair - and Monet wouldn't have it any other way.

They hold hands on the subway and neither of them flinches when they get dirty looks from the eleven o’clock perverts - simply keeping their heads low but together. Monet places a chaste peck on the top of Nina’s ear and the girl damn near swoons. 

They hurry up above ground where they await the warm safety of the streetlights and patrol cars - dodge between drunk men and frisky couples to wander home. Somewhere along the way, it starts to snow and Nina sticks her tongue out tentatively - trying to catch the fleeting remnants of winter, taste the memories.

When they reach Monet’s apartment, Nina is pushed against the inside of the door. Monet firmly places a knee between her legs, holding her in place to suck a row of neat kisses onto the exposed collarbone. It’s flushed red from the sudden heat and patches slowly turn purple under the pressure as Nina’s fingers thread through her partner's hair. She sighs contentedly and Monet stops to peck her lips before dragging her through the nearest door and pushing them both gently onto the couch.

_ It's a bad idea, me and you _

_ It's a bad idea, me and you _

_ Hold me close while I think this through _

_ Yeah, it's a very poor idea, me and you _

Nina wakes up on the couch. Her hand is numb under the weight of Monet, who is still fast asleep tucked between her and the back of the sofa. In the early morning light, she looks almost ethereal. The glow of dawn casts shadows across her face that only make her look younger, more innocent, less burdened with the pressures of being one of Broadway’s up and comings. 

Nina is sure she looks like none of the above, feeling the way her mascara makes her eyelashes stick to her under eyes every time she blinks. She supposes that it could symbolise the way her heart sticks and tugs a little every time she looks at Monet but she’s always been a poetic theatre kid and real life doesn’t work like a story book. Romance is an idea to be bought and sold with ticket stubs and a rosé.

She prises herself off the sticky leather of the couch, rubbing her exposed leg gently where it had stuck, and cracks her neck as she sits up. She grabs her belongings from where they had been strewn on the floor and runs a hand through the stiff hairspray residue of her hair. When she leaves she tries not to look back. Her conscience is too precious.

_ Heart, stop racing _

_ Let's face it, making mistakes like this will make worse what was already pretty bad _

_ Mind, stop running _

_ It's time we just let this thing go _

_ It was a pretty good bad idea, wasn't it though? _

It’s scary how easy it is to return to avoiding each other. It doesn't take much - maybe a different hallway here, a change of side there and you’re all good. No awkward encounters or long glances into all-too-revealing eyes. 

Nina’s conscience weighs heavy on her shoulders for a while, like she’s carrying the weight of the world on tight muscle and blue fabric. She rubs her neck with the pads of her thumb trying to loosen the knots she got from overthinking and lack of sleep, ignores how the rise and fall of her chest aches on a level that’s not quite pain. It hurts like a breakup and yet it had never really started.

The real pain comes from the way Monet cannot look her in the eye anymore. There is no flirting, no banter and no electric connection. The sparks fly like a faulty wire - they are unintended and dangerous and go nowhere - yet they could burn.

_ I know it's right for me _

_ It's the only thing I've ever done _

_ What if I never see myself ever be anything more _

_ Than what I've already become? _

She tells Brooke halfway through January when she can no longer shoulder the burden alone. Nina falls onto an arm chair looking forlorn and feels as her chest fragments into a china teacup and a saucer. And then she watches as Brooke skillfully tapes and glues her back together with love and affection and a listening ear. 

She tells Brooke about the months of pining and how it had led to a magical night that couldn’t seem to make it to morning. How the night had flown like a raven out of the window and Nina had felt hollow when she awoke, achy and cold. 

Brooke tells her she’s stupid and makes another cup of tea.

She posits that the emptiness came from fulfilment rather than absence and the cold was simply the lack of clothes. She tells her it’s simple and then she kicks her out of the office with nothing more than a sigh and a knowing smile. 

Nina damn hopes Brooke knows.

_ I need a bad idea _

_ I need a bad idea _

_ I need a bad idea _

_ I need a bad idea _

_ Just one _

It’s a long empty hallway. The same one kids sit in before they make their big breaks in New York. It’s an audition office - the air heavy with the weight of lost dreams and regret, but it smells like Cinnabon and heavy cream.

Nina finds Monet there like she knew she would. The air feels sticky and warm like the AC broke in the middle of summer but it is still only January and the windows are condensated and sparkle in the early afternoon sun. She presumes that the hallway means the same thing to Monet that it does to her - new hopes, new beginnings, new dreams. 

She has dreams.

“Monet,” she calls out, something in her voice breaking a little in the hard silence. 

Monet turns her head ever so slightly, there’s a sad smile on her face and it hurts Nina to see it. 

“Can we- Can we talk?” 

She pats the seat next to her and Nina moves slowly as if not to scare her off. They end up side by side on a cold wooden bench facing a casting board. It has eleven or so pictures on it - headshots of a few of the actors - and Monet’s and Nina’s are right next to each other.

“I remember the day this was taken,” Monet states broadly. It sounds almost as if she’s thinking out loud but there’s a certain conviction to the words. “Bob’s balcony, the light comes from his old monitor with the screen turned on.”

“It’s a beautiful picture.”

“I know.”

Nina sighs and readjusts herself so she’s leaning against the concrete wall behind them, hands either side of herself.

“Summer twenty-fourteen,” she laughs nervously, the Ohio twang returning as she says it. “Virginia took it on my last trip back home.”

“You look...” starts Monet before she trails off.

“I look?”

“Younger. More naive,” she eventually finishes.

Nina’s hand moves of its own accord to cup Monet’s chin, a move bolder than she’s ever really done before. She turns the girl’s head gently so they’re facing each other and takes a quiet inhale. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I was an asshole.” 

“It’s okay,” Monet smiles, tilting her head, and the sad look in her eyes fades a little. “You were scared.”

“I was.”

“I still am.”

They kiss slowly like Nina’s always wanted. She wonders if this is what romance feels like when it’s raw and pure. Distilled essence of love, bottled and sold to the fools in the hallway, hands clasped in Monet’s lap like the other will run again.

It’s not an unfair worry.

_ Heart, keep racing _

_ Let's make mistakes _

_ Let us say "so what?" and make worse what was already pretty bad _

_ This secret is safe _

_ No reason to throw it away when there's love to be had _

“We kissed again!” gushes Nina, sat on Brooke’s desk while the other woman tries to fill out some paperwork. She looks up with a quirked eyebrow and a faintly proud smile as Nina seems to be bouncing out of her own skin - excitement bubbling.

“And you’re telling me because?” she asks, still flicking through the document, scribbling her signature by the tabs. 

“Because you’re you.” Nina stands up, lamenting slightly, “and I’m me, and you and Ness are sooo good!” Brooke smiles at the sound of her wife’s name, glowing a little just thinking about her. “And you’re having a baby and if I can’t ask you for your help who can I?” 

Brooke stands up, closing the book and looking Nina in the eyes. She is wiser than she should be at twenty-something and Nina values her opinion above anyone else's.

“We got through this shit because we talked. There was no walking out, no nothing. When she wanted to have a baby, I made a cup of tea and we talked.” Nina nods slowly. “Now I’m going to make a cup of tea and we’re going to talk, capisce?”

“Yes.”

  
  


_ Hold me tight as I tell myself that you might make sense _

_ And make good what has been just so bad _

_ Let's see this through _

_ It's a pretty good bad idea _

Nina wakes up between two warm cotton sheets. Her bare back presses against a warm body and she can feel cold toes pushing into her calves. As smoothly and quietly as she can, she turns onto her back, moving an arm so the other woman stops spooning her back and wraps around her side, head nestling into the crook of her shoulder.

She sighs contentedly. Monet snuggles into her even more. Nina reckons staying over was a damn good idea.

_ Me and you _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you all! don't be shy with your feedback <3
> 
> tumblr @pink-grapefruit-cafe


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